


Shattered Soul

by DragonLover19



Category: Gravity Falls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 13:47:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8374438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonLover19/pseuds/DragonLover19
Summary: Four years have come and gone. Four years the elder Pines have relearned and learned things about each other and themselves. Four years can make a new beginning for a new chapter. Four years can make a new opening for a new villein to appear.





	

“I'm not scared of dying

And I don't really care

If it's peace you find in dying

Well then, let the time be near”

‘And When I Die’ - Blood, Sweat & Tears

~x~

Ezard Willing always thought himself as a quiet person that didn’t fit in. An outsider to his village that could never find his place or find his purpose amongst them. He always believed that there was nothing inside himself to prove his worth or have any recognizable traits that could possibly get him to be noticed by others and maybe have a few friends.

“ _Animi mortuorum voces aure caput meum._ _Nam de terra, quod mitti, quod inficit rubrum lutum._ ”

But fate seemed to prove him wrong.

“ _Vocationem nostram, et ostende nobis aula._ ”

Ezard kept his body still and his hold on the candle firm as the low chanting continued. If he remembered correctly, the ceremony was about halfway finished. And that would be another twenty minutes away. And after that, all members would finish with the final saying of the vow and depart from tonight’s gathering. He hoped that the vow wouldn’t take too long this time. He needed to get back home quickly tonight.

“ _Fortitudo tua quae necessaria sunt ad cursum facinus tenebris._ ”

The leader suddenly stuck out one hand, halting the chant to a dead silence. Ezard stiffened. This never happened in the chanting before. Had something gone wrong? He looked up at the leader.

The leader motioned for everyone to be quiet, stepping out of the hand craft circle and down the steps towards the broken window. Something must have caught the leader’s attention, Ezard thought as he watched the leader take slow silent steps towards the window. His eyes wandered out over to the opening, scanning for any signs that could make the leader uneasy and stop the chant. Not that he knew much of what could make them uneasy.

The fact was that Ezard never knew much about anyone that were a member of their cult. All identity or any know information was strictly prohibited to be spoken or heard while the cult were gathered and robed. It was the high order of the cult’s law. Something that Ezard wasn’t too sure of. Still, he didn’t question it or dared to ask about it. Not that he would think that anyone would want to answer his questions. The cult never stayed together often, nor did they interact very much outside of the cult when they weren’t robed.

Precautions, he figured. The cult had made sure that no members would mix or mingle with each other when they were not wearing their robes of deepest black. This was something that was common enough for Ezard to understand. He’d seen it so many times in his village that he knew the ways and works of each cult that would come and settle in the village before being driven out and ending for good.

Cults were a common thing. For as long as he could remember, different cults would appear out of the blue one morning. It would start with a few disappearances of familiar faces, then those faces would return, but there would be some difference hanging around them. Something that was off and unfamiliar. Sometimes they would act the same as before, others not so much. By then after a few days, they would be wearing the symbolic symbol of their cult, showing it out in plain view or having it hidden somewhere on their body. After that, it would be the repeating cycle of disappearances and reappearances, and few symbols being hanged or painted on the walls or streets, midnight chants and animals vanishing and never coming back.

Most of the time, no one really complained or made so much as a fuss over it. Cults had been around the village for years. Long since it was founded. However, some people would be a little wary when a new cult appeared. It wasn’t so much out of fear of what the cult may be doing or who they were worshiping, it was more so on the fact of sacrifices that they were concerned on.

Blood required sacrifices were not a popular thing amongst many. Especially if the sacrifice was a form of a human.

It was greatly disliked and highly unpopular in the village. If word got out that a cult was doing sacrifices that required a human life, things would get very unpleasant. But as far as Ezard knew, none of the cults have been using sacrifices other than animal blood. Which in some way was better than using human blood he guessed.

Some part of Ezard was happy that the cult he was in didn’t use blood, and did more chanting and marching around the dark alleys of the village putting up their symbol behind homes and buildings.

‘For the good of our people’, one cult had said many years ago. Ezard didn’t remember their face, or recall which cult they were from originally. It was only those words that he could recall so clearly. And to him, it seemed that most cults were doing exactly that.

Though, not in the way Ezard would say ‘for the good of our people.’

To him, that job was already taken by someone else.

“Dictum est nocte.”

Snapping back to the present, Ezard returned his focus on the leader as he returned to the circle.

“Tutus est locus. Prope est albus serico. Non lucem in vobis rapit usque in signum super ostium. Fuge!”

Ezard didn’t need to be told twice as he quickly blew out the candles light and made a dash out the back entrance of the old abandoned church. His heart pounded as he ran, feet stomping the ground as he moved swiftly and silently, his robe fluttering in the wind as he guided himself through the thick trees of the forest. After a few minutes of running around and going high and low, he deemed himself safe enough to stop and rest.

 _Guess this marks my first time scattering with the cult._ Ezard sighed, pulling back his hood and leaned against the tree he rested against. He let himself rest, seeing how he wasn’t in any immediate danger that would require him to flee quickly.

Speed was the only good skill Ezard had. It helped out in a lot of situation that called for it back in his younger years. It let him out run and out of reach to those who would try and capture him before, but now he didn’t need to worry or fret about it so much long as he kept up with his wits.

Ezard knew that tomorrow would mark the third full week since he was initiated into the cult. Despite those long weeks, he still felt that he was a newbie, still an outsider. But at least someone had noticed him, otherwise he wouldn’t have been chosen to join.

Still, it didn’t fell right.

Being in a cult was alright, but it just wasn’t what he was looking for. Something else was missing. Something that wasn’t there to make him feel complete.

He sighed, pushing off the tree.

Well, no time to think about it. The cult was down for now, so that meant he could get a few nights of rest for some time before he was called back again.

Which gave him some free time to enjoy himself.

With that in mind, Ezard headed off for the village as he robe fluttered and trailed behind him like an imposing shadow in the moons pale light.

That night, the cult of the Shadow Hearts had gone into hiding, waiting patiently for the right moment to come out again.

.-.-.

Out on the oceans waves, a small boat bobbed up and down on the waters. It was small enough to be considered a fishing boat, but big enough that it could house up to three or four people comfortably. The years out at sea were apparent and obvious on its outer appearance. But the aura that it gave off told that it was well loved and deeply cherished.

It was normal looking on the outside, but on the inside was another story altogether. Inside the boat, it was filled to the brim with item and objects that could put a haunted house in a museum. Lining the shelves, bookcases, and walls were items and creatures that were beyond any normal person’s imagination. Pictures littered the walls, most of a pair of a brother and his identical sister making silly possess and vivid gestures. Others were of people who were all smiling and grinning in each photo.

Supernatural creatures were locked in a few cages, sleeping soundly or pacing around in their small cells. Jars were lined inside a small freezer made for storage with written dates on their lids. Hanging from the ceiling, three paper lanterns hung off the spine of an eastern dragon decoration. In one part of the room was dedicated and filled with scientific equipment while the other part was made for living in.

The back of the boat was free of all the items that took up most of the front. This was the main bedroom area of the boat where its residents and owners slept. With the exception of one.

Stanford Pines, 61 years old and a man who traveled dimensions for thirty years, was awake and focused. He sat hunched over his small desk that was covered in notes and pictures of his family and his friends back in Gravity Falls. Siting open with a new entry written in its pages was Ford’s new journal.

Journal number five.

But this time, this journal, along with its previous partner number four, was filled with not just documentaries on findings of the supernatural and creatures of mystery, it was also filled with memories jotted down by him and his brother, Stanley.

“Lets see, this symbol means life… and this one is sky…” Ford said as he chewed the end of his pen while making quick notes of the artifact in his six fingered hand. The artifact in question was a necklace Stan had, quote on quote, found _‘lyin’ aroun’_ at the old ruins museum they last explored on land.

On other days, Ford would have been disappointed in his twin, but since the artifact was old and the weirdness radiating off of it had gained more of his attention to study it more.

With the promise to return it after they were done of course.

He didn’t want to be banned from county halfway across the ocean thank you very much.

“So that translates into Life of one soul reaching the sky… But that hardly makes any sense…”

Sighing, Ford placed the artifact down and ran a hand down his face. The need for sleep was slowing down his progress that it was getting hard to focus on figuring out the old ruins encrypted into the artifact.

He decided that he could finish deciphering it tomorrow before he clocked out on at the desk again and have Stan give him an ear load about it. Getting up and stretching his limbs, Stanford took a glance at his twin and smiled.

Stan was peacefully snoring away on his berth, mumbling something about dinosaurs and babes in his sleep. Ford almost found it humorous. Stepping closer to his brother, he gently ran one hand through Stan’s hair, having found out long ago how Stan relaxed under the contact and sigh with contentment.

Tugging the sheets more securely around Stan, Ford yawned and headed over to the other side of the room where his berth laid out, warm and inviting. Ford almost wanted to laid down and instantly go to bed, but he had to make sure that the Stan O’ War II’s other passenger was asleep. They had started making a habit of staying up later than they really should, which was starting to get on Ford’s nerves. Stan didn’t mind too much, but it was Stan, what could he do with him?

There wasn’t a third berth as the ship was originally made for two people to live in, so a few improvisions were made. Getting another bed was out of the question since there was little room to fit one in, and adding a berth was just the same problem as the first. So instead a little hammock was hung up, and so far they seemed to enjoy sleeping in it.

After making sure that, yes, they were indeed asleep, Ford finally set himself onto his own bed, stretching out one final time before taking off his glasses and laying down, letting sleep succumb him.

-.-.-

7-19-22-2 7-19-13-23 7-12 8-7-26-2 6-11 8-12 7-19-22-2 24-26-13 4-26-7-24-19 12-5-22-9 7-19-22-14


End file.
